


Secrets of the Heart

by 1010nabulation



Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: Canon-Typical Homophobia, Crisis of Faith, Forbidden Love, Frottage, Infidelity, M/M, Physical Abuse, Stolen Moments, mentions of Oseian Dalaran
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-23 06:25:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9644306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1010nabulation/pseuds/1010nabulation
Summary: Thara and Evru share a stolen moment together, and take what small pleasures in each other the world will allow them...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Island_of_Reil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Island_of_Reil/gifts).



> I hope that this treat brings you joy! I wrote this with the assumption that Evru was being truthful to Thara about his treatment by his wife, because I believe that one as observant as Thara would likely have seen evidence of it to make him hate her so thoroughly as he did. Hopefully that is enough in line with your perception! And, at any rate, there is much smut to be enjoyed if all else fails. ;)

The moon is already high overhead by the time Thara Celehar hears the soft pittering clink of a pebble against the glass in his window casing, his ears twitching at the sound. He should not answer. In truth, he has been waiting awake in the darkness for hours already, fighting with himself over whether this night would be the last. Whether he might renounce his own heart and dedicate himself in full to Ulis, as he should. But as the hours ticked by, other fears crept in. Evru is in much more immediate danger than he each time he slips away... But here he is, now. And Thara is weak.

He goes to the window and opens it quickly, ushering Evru's wide bulk through it as quietly as they both can manage. They must not wake or otherwise alert the other prelates in their chambers. The dormitory building of Aveio's Ulimiere is walled thickly enough, but all is still and silent at this hour, and Thara is not supposed to be entertaining guests. Let alone a lover, and marnis at that. He knows well the hierophant's dark opinion of those of his kind; knows too that were he to be found out his life would be ruined.

He knows what he is doing flies in the very face of Ulis, and all his holy vows. Yet, for love of Evru, he is willing to accept the risk. One more time.

“Didst not wait up for me, I hope?” Evru whispers once the window is closed once more.

His pale green eyes catch the moonlight streaming onto his face and sparkle with it. It lifts Thara's heart to see.

“Thinkst I could have slept knowing thou wouldst try to visit this night?” There is warmth in Thara's voice, though he cannot keep the note of apprehension out of it entirely. “Thou didst come so late. I worried...”

“I am sorry. I would have been here earlier, but Oseian--” Evru bites his lip, discomfort plain on his soft features.

“--Prevented thee,” Thara finishes for him. He knows full well that Oseian Dalaran's wrath is mightier even than the hierophant's, and Evru risks much to come to him at all. Though they meet in secret and in darkness, while all the world is sleeping, there have been many times that Merrem Dalaran nearly awoke to discover her husband's brief escape. Were his wife to find him out, Thara fears Evru's life might be forfeit. He cannot blame him for being as careful as possible.

“Yes,” Evru sighs, and folds himself into Thara's arms. “But let us not speak of her now. Thara, how I have longed for thee.”

Those words, breathed softly as a confession, stir Thara to the core. When he is honest with himself, he knows he has longed for this, too; to hold Evru close, to know the beating of his heart and the warmth of his embrace, forbidden as it is. He lifts his head to kiss Evru. Softly, at first, the gentlest brush of lips. Evru opens to him easily, drawing in a gasp of air at the first teasing hint of tongue. Their passion builds quickly, both the strain of longing and the quicksilver fear of discovery sparking them to fever pitch.

Standing there in the middle of Thara's bedchamber, their hands roam each others' bodies. Thara can feel the shift of warm muscle beneath his hands even through the cloth of Evru's tunic, and they are pressed against each other so indelicately that he can also feel the hardness of Evru's arousal hot against his thigh though they both still wear their breeches. Thara cannot stifle a groan at that, his own cockstand twitching to fullness at the sensation. His arms tighten around Evru, hands catching in the softness of his tunic over his broad upper back.

At that, Evru hisses and pulls away.

Thara releases him easily, eyes sharp with concern as he searches Evru's face. “She hast hurt thee again.”

It's a statement, not a question at all. Burning hatred rises in his throat, anger so fierce it is hard to swallow down. His ears flare with it. For Merrem Dalaran to take the vagaries of her temper out on Evru, who will not and cannot defend himself lest he be branded an abusive husband, is vile to the utmost extreme. And trust that the societal double-standard is not lost on Thara, that she can do what Evru cannot with no fear of reprisal. This society believes not that a woman may abuse her man, especially a man as large and powerful as Evru. But Thara knows Evru is gentle, and kind... and he is suffering and wilting under the weight of a loveless marriage to a wife who takes every unhappiness out on him with force.

Evru says nothing to deny it, though his own ears are pressed low and flat. He makes no protest when Thara's hands move to delicately lift the tunic over his head, either. Thara gasps at the sight of the dark line of bruising over the right side of Evru's ribcage, and Evru winces and looks away.

“Hast beaten thee _black_ ,” Thara breathes, horror-stricken. “Oh, Evru.”

“'Tis nothing,” Evru says, still not meeting Thara's eyes. “I forgot Oseian's dislike of onion, and she didst throw the dish at me. Its edge caught me there, is all. Nothing broke, not even the dish.”

 _Not even the dish_ , as though that were more precious than his own bones. It's all Thara can do to choke back his rage—at Merrem Dalaran, at a society that will do nothing to stop this, at himself for being powerless to stop it. Not for the first time, Thara wishes there was anything at all he could do to help Evru. And not for the first time, though he knows the futility of it, he sends up a prayer to Ulis on Evru's behalf. But Ulis is the god of letting go, not of holding close...

“Please, Thara, let her not poison the time we have together. It is too sweet,” Evru says, catching Thara's hand before he can touch the injured flesh. He raises that hand to his lips, and presses a trembling kiss to it. “Please. Please...”

Thara blinks back the sudden sting of tears and nods. At least he can give him that. A respite from the constant misery of his life, a safe haven where he is cared for, loved. If this is all he can provide, Thara will do his best to make it good for Evru.

“As thou wishest.” Thara's voice breaks over the words. 

He curls his fingers into Evru's and draws their twined hands back from Evru's lips, pulling him forward toward the bed. A small relieved smile lights Evru's face as he allows himself to be led, Thara lying him out gently on the bed. Thara tries a smile too, though it is smaller still than Evru's. His ears will not do more than twitch as he tries to lift them. Desperately, he tries to put all thought of anything but pleasing Evru aside. Thara lifts his own nightshirt over his head, baring his slight torso. His night breeches fall next, and all the rest, until Thara is naked in the moonlight. The soft, adoring look in Evru's eyes as he watches Thara disrobe is enough to lift Thara's spirits. How he does love this man.

“Thou'rt made of moonbeams,” Evru says fondly as Thara settles atop him.

Thara laughs, a short, rough sound. “Thy head is full of them, more like.” Then, softer, “I am not half so radiant as thee.”

Evru reaches up to brush a few loosed strands of fine milk-white hair out of Thara's face, stroking the rough pad of his thumb over the fine arch of Thara's cheekbone. “Hast not looked in a mirror lately, then.”

There is nothing Thara can say to that, an it not be another denial. He should count himself lucky that Evru sees him in a light that he himself does not. To stanch the flow of pretty words, he leans down to catch Evru's mouth with his own, rekindling their earlier passion. He is careful not to put too much pressure on Evru's chest, especially near his injured ribs, letting most of his weight rest instead where their hips join. The press of their cocks against each other is exquisite; Thara only wishes there was nothing left between them. The fabric of Evru's breeches is uncomforably rough against his most tender flesh. Evru's broad hands are warm on his back, stroking over him such that it makes him arch into the touch. The distraction is enough to make Thara's fingers fumble as he slides them down over the hard swells of muscle that make up Evru's chest and abdomen, down to the laces of his breeches.

He is about to ask if he may untie them, when Evru lifts his hips, murmuring a soft plea into Thara's neck. Evru moves his hands to Thara's front, bracing his chest. It might have been helpful to Thara had he not also been rubbing slow circles into the peaks of Thara's nipples. Instead it is yet another sweet distraction, and Thara's hands shake as he picks apart the ties and finally loosens them enough to release Evru's straining cock.

Oh, _there_. Thara feels his whole body shudder as their cocks meet skin-to-skin, hot and velvet-soft and alight with nigh-overwhelming sensation. Mercifully, Evru stops thumbing his nipples long enough at least to allow him a moment to steady himself.

“Art all right?” Evru asks, breath coming fast. His eyes are lust-hazed, and the soft smile playing at his lips is warm.

Thara nods, then says with no little amused exasperation, “Must thou ask? I am shaking with want of thee.”

There is laughter between them as Evru shifts and writhes enough to allow Thara to pull his breeches and all down, then kicks to remove the clothing entirely from his body. It feels good to share this with Evru, this moment of outright bliss. Do they not deserve to be happy, as much as anyone? In moments like these, in Evru's arms, their bodies entwined and overcome with desire, Thara almost believes they do.

Through the veil of lust clouding his mind, Thara recalls that he had meant to focus on Evru's pleasure this night. He looks slyly at Evru, lips quirking as he makes his first move to do just that—quick as a coiled snake, he leans in and closes his teeth around the sensitive tip of one of Evru's long ears, just nipping hard enough to startle Evru, then he licks and sucks at the spot. A hoarse groan escapes Evru, his ear twitching under Thara's lips and tongue, his hands stilling and clenching in the flesh of Thara's back. Oh, he knows what Evru likes. Carefully, so carefully so as not to leave any mark on his fine pink-flushed skin, Thara kisses and sucks all along Evru's ear and then down his throat, drawing harsh gasps and pants and stifled moans from his lover. All through it, he rocks his hips against Evru's, met with equally fervent thrusts as their cocks press and drag against each other, quickly becoming slick enough with the fluid of their arousal for the tips to begin to slide deliciously.

“Wishest to join with me?” Thara asks, lifting himself up on one elbow enough to look Evru in the eye. The glazed look he gets in return turns his belly liquid with desire.

Evru shakes his head. “Not this night. Thou hast nearly undone me already.”

Then Evru hooks one leg over Thara's thighs, holding him to him, their bodies pressed ever more firmly together and their cocks trapped between them harder yet than before. He rolls his hips, and Thara moves with him, his eyes fluttering shut. Oh, sweet friction! Tonight it shall be enough to undo them both, he is sure. 

Evru reaches up to thread his fingers through Thara's hair as they move against each other, pulling the long prelate's braiding apart until his hair is spilling over his shoulders. The gesture is so intimate, it makes Thara's heart ache. He wishes no one but Evru to see him with his hair loose. Thara's own hands sink into Evru's soft cornsilk curls, and he lowers his lips to capture Evru's. The kiss is messy and desperate, locked as they are in the throes of passion; it's deep and rough and yet as reverent as a benediction.

True to his word, it is not long before Evru's thrusts become erratic, and then he goes taut as a bowstring beneath Thara as he spills between them. Thara swallows his moans, drinking down every last sweet sound his lover makes. Evru's hands shake as he struggles to loose them from Thara's hair without pulling, then moves them to grip and knead the swell of Thara's buttocks the way he likes, encouraging Thara toward his climax even as Evru still trembles in the aftermath of his own.

It is that kind consideration that fills Thara's heart until he can contain no more, and he breaks and comes with a soft, gravel-roughened cry. In the wake of that excess of emotion and sensation, Thara feels too wrung out for words. He is careful to fall beside Evru and not on top of him, still mindful of his injury even now, only his head pillowed on Evru's damp chest. Their bellies are sticky with cooling spend, but that can wait for now. Soon enough, they will have to get up and go back to their lives, where they are no more to each other than close acquaintances. For now, all he wants to do is lie here with Evru, warm and safe and as happy as they are ever allowed to be.

It isn't fair, Thara thinks. That Evru should have to go back to a cold and hurtful marriage bed, that Thara should have to hide his love as something unnatural and despicable when it _feels_ like it is anything but. There is nothing more Thara can do, however fervently he wishes things were different. All he can give Evru is this—stolen moments of intimacy, and a love that is true and undemanding, here in the darkness of his chambers.

And for this moment, it's enough.


End file.
